by Jo Leigh
Maggie shifted as the cab made another turn. She tried to remember what it was like to be that carefree, to be that hopeful about everything. Back then, when she pictured her future, it was all about Broadway success and true love with Colin. That boy had stolen her heart from the beginning. Sadly, she’d never gotten it back.
He’d changed so much from those days. He’d been incredibly adventurous, taking her to clubs and on impromptu trips to France or Spain. He’d been devoted to modern art and jazz guitar, and they’d spent so many nights talking about philosophy and politics. She’d changed, too. Her world had narrowed to singing and work. Singing, work and Colin. Work was the only one that had shown real signs of success.
Blake, on the other hand, hadn’t changed at all. There was a lot to be said for his exuberance, but his behavior had long ago gone from forgivably daring to outright recklessness.
Even so, she missed him. He’d nursed her through the long days and nights of abject misery when Colin had gotten engaged to Elizabeth, and for that Maggie would always be grateful.
Even from war zones, Blake called her regularly, if infrequently, checking to make sure she wasn’t still pining over his brother. Of course, she hadn’t told him the truth, but then he didn’t need to be told.
The cab pulled up in front of Colin’s building. She gave the driver his money and hurried past the doorman into the lobby. She passed by the sign-in; they knew her here. Perhaps well enough to read the anxiety in her expression because Will didn’t say hello and neither did Sonny.
The ride up to the fourth floor felt longer than the drive, but finally, she was at Colin’s door. He flung it open, a phone at his ear, his face composed, his body tense as a bow string.
After plopping her bag and coat down, she traded her huge boots for more practical but less comfortable heels, then went straight to the kitchen and put on the kettle as she listened in on his conversation.
“…Colin Griffith,” he said, using his most formidable voice. “The man I’m looking for is Fahran Azimi. He’s a student, but he often works with members of the Associated Press.” He stopped speaking. “I know precisely what the hour is there.” The pacing stopped. “Yes, it is inconvenient to hunt this man down. War is inconvenient. Your people are the best equipped to do the hunting.” His lips were pressed together tightly, which for Colin was the calm before the storm. “All you need to understand, Mr. Foster, it that Mr. Azimi needs to be located immediately and quietly.” He paused and his body relaxed a bit. “Yes, that’s correct. You have my number.”
Maggie leaned against the kitchen door, watching him. He closed his phone, but didn’t turn to her. Knowing him, he was mentally going through his list of who he’d call next, what strings could be pulled. And even though she was heartsick at missing the audition, she was glad she’d come. He would move mountains if she needed him for anything, but lately he hadn’t seemed to need her quite as often.
It was the expectations. From his parents, from all those important people who’d been part of his meteoric rise in public service. Since his brother delighted in thumbing his nose at everyone who cared about him and destroying his family’s reputation, Colin had become the default standard-bearer.
“I can’t think of anything more I can do.” He still hadn’t turned to her.
“I’m making tea.” Around him, she tended to speak with a soupçon of a British accent, even though she’d been born in Virginia. But as she’d learned from traveling around the world with her family, she tended to mimic all accents.
Finally, he came over to her and gave her a one-armed hug. She rubbed his back a bit until the kettle whistled. Ever since Cambridge, fixing tea had become almost a sacred thing. Whenever there were discussions or problems, the kettle went on.
She doubted Colin had eaten, so while the leaves steeped in his old pot, she put together a tray of snacks. Some cookies, cheese and crackers, toast and jam. Unlike herself, Colin didn’t eat under stress. She’d force him to, though. He looked like hell.
The cups and food went on the tray and she brought it all out to the coffee table in the living room, where she found him staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing. Just, you look great.”
She inhaled; said nothing. Just smiled as she sat down. But his compliment had jolted her with the reminder of the audition. It was happening right now. Without her. Tears burned at her eyes, which she quickly swiped away. It wasn’t as if she had a real chance at getting the part. Even if Randy had thought she was the best thing since sliced bread, there were still the director, the producers. But dammit. She’d tried harder at singing than any other thing in her life, with the possible exception of learning Mandarin Chinese. Of course she knew she was good at languages. She only hoped she was good enough for Broadway. Now, she’d never know.
Maybe it was for the best. Maybe not knowing if she was good enough was a blessing. Besides, there were worse things than the demise of a ridiculous dream. Such as your twin brother being held by enemy insurgents in Afghanistan.
When she glanced up, Colin’s stare was no longer focused on her red dress. It was a stare she’d come to know well over the past couple of years. There was no disrespect or dismissal in that look. Just that his thoughts were elsewhere. She understood. Even though she never looked at him without seeing too much. Wanting—Dammit. She wouldn’t think about that now. Talk about foolish dreams. “Come on,” she said. “Drink some tea. Talk to me.”
He cleared his throat as if that would also clear his thoughts, then joined her on the couch.
She poured, his with two lumps and milk, then put some cheese and crackers on his saucer along with his cup. “Eat, please. You need to be at your best.”
He nodded although he didn’t obey. He just closed his eyes. “This is all so typical. I should just let it go. Let the chips fall where they may. Everyone always cleans up after Blake and it’s high time we all stopped. That I stopped. If he’s gotten himself into trouble, he’ll have to suffer the consequences.”
“You know, it might not be all that dire. He could be out of touch because of his location or because of an equipment malfunction.”
“That would be convenient, but really, it doesn’t even matter anymore. Blake didn’t tell his boss where he was going. He knew what danger he was heading for, and he did it anyway.”
“You’re right. He’s an idiot. But he has a way of always landing on his feet. He’ll get out of this. And who knows, maybe this will be his wake-up call.”
Colin frowned as he sipped his tea. “Stupid stubborn bastard.”
“Yes, he is.”
For the first time that morning, Colin smiled. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“I know.”
She picked up a piece of toast, hoping he’d do the same. But her stomach rebelled at the thought of food, and in spite of herself, she discretely glanced at her watch as she returned the toast to her plate. Her gaze went back to Colin, unshaven, his hair an utter mess, and she thought again how much he’d changed since they’d first met.
He’d run into her. Literally. He was playing American football of all things, a game of touch, when he’d gone long and smashed into her as he’d caught the ball. She’d been flattened but unhurt, and he’d fussed over her so much she’d almost decked him. They’d ended up laughing and while his friends called for the ball, he’d asked her all kinds of questions, mostly about where she was from and what she was studying and why she’d come to England to attend university. They’d spoken French at each other, then Mandarin, followed by Italian. He’d thought he’d got her with Egyptian, but she’d lived there for two years, so it was four-four. Then he’d spouted two more languages and she only had one. It was close enough to warrant an exchange of numbers.
She’d been excited because he was the best-looking guy she’d met in England, and all that talking made her think he’d been flirting. He towered over h
er and was altogether too wiry for her taste, but there was something incredibly sexy about him. The way he ran his hand through his dark hair, his amazing cheekbones. He’d made her giggle. She’d been mortified, but helpless to stop.
She wasn’t the only grad student in love with Colin. It seemed as if every girl at Cambridge had made a fool of herself over him or his twin, and if it hadn’t been for Blake, Maggie would have done the same. Because Colin had Elizabeth. She was a proper British beauty—complete with title—and appropriate for Colin in every way.
So Maggie had become friends with the twin brothers, and when Colin had told her he’d gotten a job in New York, she’d been ecstatic.
Colin put his cup back on the table and blinked at her. “Didn’t you have something on today?”
She kept her expression neutral. “No. Nothing,” she said. “It’s New Year’s Eve Day. That’s probably what you’re thinking.”
“No, it was something—oh, shit. Your audition.” He looked at his watch. “You can still make it, can’t you?”
“I’m not leaving.” She glanced at her own watch again in some stupid hope that she’d misread the time. She hadn’t. “Doesn’t matter. I never stood a chance.”
“You don’t know that. I’m sure they’ll make an exception. I’ll call—”
“Your diplomatic friends have no sway over Broadway musicals, but thank you,” she said wryly. “Can we drop it?” He looked stricken, and she was afraid she might start crying again. “When did you find out about Blake?”
He frowned at the abrupt change of subject, looked as if he wanted to argue further, but then fought against a yawn. “Uh, four this morning.”
“I know you haven’t eaten, but did you at least shower?”
“Why? Do I smell?”
“No. I just think it would do you some good.”
He shook his head.
“I’ll be here. I’ll bring the phone to you if something happens. You know I will.”
He glanced down at his wool pants and white shirt. No tie, but he’d dressed as if he might need to run to the consulate at a moment’s notice. “I didn’t get to sleep until two. Bad luck.”
“You? On a school night?”
That made him laugh, but he still didn’t move.
“Go. Shower. Wash that horrible hair.”
He grunted as he got up and when he passed her, he squeezed her shoulder.
She smiled until he was out of the room.
2
IT FELT WONDERFUL to stand under the hot water. The morning had been a nightmare, but he needed to relax. Thank goodness for Maggie. He hated that she’d missed such a great chance, but he was glad she was here. Always practical, more calming than any shower, she was his rock. She knew more about his situation than anyone outside of London, outside of family. But then, Maggie was family. He certainly preferred her over his irresponsible brother.
Colin’s head dropped to his chest as a wave of exhaustion hit. Maybe Blake had the right idea after all. Live hard, party hard and leave a handsome corpse. When was the last time he’d done anything crazy? Or spontaneous? Blake always managed to get what he was after, didn’t he? The bastard was so charming everyone always forgave him and, in the end, that’s what mattered. Except that wasn’t quite true, was it?The shampoo bottle was in Colin’s hand so he put some in his hair and washed as he tried not to think about Blake. Instead, he thought again about how she’d looked in that red dress. She should wear it more often. Show herself off. She needed to get out there, have herself a life. Find someone.
Not just anyone. My God, who could possibly be good enough for Maggie? No one he knew. Blake had tried to tell him that he should have a go, but Colin had laughed. Maggie and he were friends, and he wasn’t about to go blundering about with that at stake.
No, he was damned lucky to have her in his corner. How many nights had she comforted him after that messy breakup with Elizabeth? Her faith in his abilities had been pivotal in his career thus far. No, he wasn’t about to put any of that at risk. And that, right there, was the difference between himself and his brother.
Anxious to get back out to the phone, even though he knew Maggie was as good as her word, he washed quickly. He ended up putting on a different suit, something he could comfortably wear on a transatlantic flight. Just in case.
The sight of her in the kitchen was like a balm. She’d taken charge, replenishing the tea, and setting his cell phone by his seat. “Did anyone call?”
“No. It’s been quiet. I turned on BBCA, but nothing. I assume you spoke to his boss?”
“Yes, twice.” Colin sat at the table and picked up half an egg salad sandwich. “He’s got every journalist in the country looking for him. Blake’s so cagey, no one knows where to look. The fool didn’t have an armed escort, which is suicidal.”
“Everything will be okay.” Maggie sat beside him and put her hand on his. “You wait. He’ll have some crazy story about how he’d gotten the story of a lifetime, and snuck out with no one the wiser. Knowing him, he’ll probably win a Pulitzer Prize for it.”
Colin stared at her hand. It was lovely and comforting and the feel of her made sense when nothing else did. “He’s not eligible.”
“I imagine they’d make an exception for him. Everyone does.”
“They do, don’t they?”
“He tried to fool me the first time I met him, did you know?”
Her hand hadn’t moved, but somehow she’d gotten closer so he could see her eyes clearly. They were blue-green and almond-shaped, one of her best features. She wasn’t a flashy beauty like Elizabeth, but she was very pretty. In fact, she could be downright striking when she put her mind to it. Most often, she didn’t get all made up, but today she had. For the audition. He registered what she’d just told him. “Fooled you how?”
She slipped her hand from his and poured them both some Earl Grey. “I’d called you a couple of days after we met. I figured we could go to the language center together. I didn’t know it then, but Blake answered, pretended to be you and had me come over.”
“The shit.”
She grinned. “I knew right away he wasn’t you.”
“How? He could even fool our parents when he wanted to.”
“He spoke rotten Italian.”
“You never told me about that.”
“I thought I had.”
A sudden sickening thought occurred to him. “He didn’t…You two didn’t…”
“No. What a question.”
“We’re talking about Blake,” Colin said drily as he picked up his cup, a sudden and fierce possessiveness taking him by surprise. Maggie was as much Blake’s friend as she was his, so what the hell was that about?
“Yeah, but I’m part of that equation, and frankly, I’m insulted.” She lifted her chin. “When did you last speak to your parents?”
“A couple of hours ago.”
“That’s an hour too long.”
Colin sighed. She was right, of course. Maggie normally was.
SHE WASHED THE FEW DISHES from their meal as she wondered which one of them was the bigger idiot. Her for wishing Colin would see her as more than a friend, or him for being so blind. As if she’d have slept with Blake. He was a great as a friend, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Although, to his credit, he was up-front about his intentions, so none of his conquests seemed to mind.
As for Colin, he’d never been one to sleep around, just as she hadn’t been. He’d been dating Elizabeth for only a few months before Maggie had met him. Which was fine because being his friend was great. What would she do without him? She’d wondered for a long time what would have happened if they’d met earlier, but she’d gotten her answer after he and Elizabeth had broken up. Colin saw her as a friend, and only that.She probably should have distanced herself when he came to New York. It would have been easier then. Work kept her busy, that was a good excuse. She could have made up a boyfriend, or even better, had an actual boyfriend, but no. She had clung to
the fantasy that he’d look up one day and it would strike him like lightning that they were meant for each other. God.
Could she be a bigger dolt? She still blushed when she thought of how excited she’d been after the big breakup. How she’d felt so sure. But all he’d done was get hideously drunk and tell her she was a fine bloke. He’d used the word bloke. It had nearly killed her.
Oh, who was she kidding? Given the choice, she’d go through it again. All the pain, all the embarrassment. Because the thought of living a life with no Colin was too painful to contemplate. So what would it be like when she moved to Washington, D.C.? They’d talk, of course, at least twice a week. Maybe see each other every other month. Until he found another girlfriend.
The thought nearly squeezed the life out of Maggie. Which was completely silly. What did she expect? He would meet someone. Especially after she was gone and he had more time on his own.
She closed her eyes. Angry with herself. Angry with Colin. Furious with Blake. He’d pop up as if nothing had happened. Her chance at the audition would be over. Her excuse for turning down the promotion in D.C. vanished.
Colin’s voice filtered into the kitchen as he walked nearer. Not that she could make out the words, but she didn’t have to. She knew what his talks were like with his parents. Very civil, very calm, no matter what. Because it was Colin’s job to be the grown-up. His mother liked her sherry a bit too much and was constantly in a panic. His father was so busy with his politics and his horses and his expectations that poor Colin was always trying to appease one or both of them. Trying to be twice as good to make up for Blake’s rebellions.
For all that, the brothers loved each other. Needed each other. Maggie hoped that in time, Colin would let himself relax and be a little more like Blake, and Blake would grow up and become more like Colin. If Blake lived long enough, it could work out perfectly.
